Blood and Balance
by oldstuff
Summary: The Copper Isles call for an heir in hopes of stability, but when a country's affairs are governed by a trickster, stability can come in the most unlikely ways...
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Blood and Balance  
**Summary:** Seven year after Dovasary Balitang leads a successful raka rebellion and reclaims the throne, her advisors call for an heir in hopes of ensuring stability through the next generation. But in a country where the gods--and one god in particular--take more than a healthy amount of interest in politics, 'stability' is often reached in unconventional ways...  
**Rating:** PG (Though that might change at some point in the future...)  
**Author's Notes:** Kudos to Lea, who gave me half the idea for this. This is probably going to be multi-chaptered.  
Setting the state, it takes place seven years after TQ, and I've nudged around a few of the laws in the Copper Isles.

"I can't say I was expecting _you_," Aly said softly.

The man in front of her grinned. To all the other people in the Jaded Pavilion, he was a young male servant, dressed in the simple tunics of those who served the Balitang house. But to Aly's eyes he blazed with godhood. "That's my girl. When I called you 'The Clever One' in my prophecy, I didn't do it for prettiness." Kyprioth took a seat next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him. The bench they sat on, shaded by fragrant leaves and branches, afforded them enough secrecy to talk without drawing attention from the nobles. Aly had chosen that place with the sole intention of watching her children--and keeping an eye on Dove, scratching a suspicion she'd harbored for days.

"Oh, don't flatter me so," Aly said with a coy smile and a flutter of the hand. Her eyes never left Dove, who was talking animatedly with several nobles about—if her lip reading was true—a new mathematical theorem that had taken the academic world by storm. When she had been thirteen, Dove had always been surrounded by older men and women during these discussions—now nineteen, she was surrounded by young nobles her age who listened intently and used four syllable words almost as often as they took breath. Intellectual discussions had become the newest rage at court once nobles fawning after royal favor realized that, unlike Sarai, Dove grew polite and disinterested in the face of dances, hunts, and dresses.

_But not pretty men,_ Aly noticed wryly. She scanned the clump of nobles to see if any had caught Dove's attention as she had suspected—Aly knew the queen well enough to know when some fellow had captured her interest. But before she could follow the observation further, Kyprioth spoke.

"Come, my dear, don't trifle with me. I'd like to hear you say that, at the very least, you know why I'm here. It makes me feel less godlike." He twirled an imaginary mustache—he was not wearing his normal salt-and-pepper beard, but was a clean shaven youth with the dark hair and eyes of the raka.

"And why on earth would I do that? After all, I certainly _don't_ know why you grace me with your presence—and I'm mortal, remember? I'm made to cower in the face of your esteem." _There. That's him. I should warn her that if she's going to show favor for young what's-his-name, she should do it less discretely…_ Aly wracked her brains for the fellow's name.

Kyprioth continued undaunted. "You're also made as my messenger, which is why I'm here it all. Surely you've realized our lovely little bird reached her majority a year ago."

Aly kept her tone light and disinterested. "It would have been difficult not to realize, with all the fuss that was made over it. I'm sure you heard the revelry in the Divine Realms."

"And what's not to revel in? For my second choice, she's doing exceedingly well."

Aly shrugged. She never openly criticized Sarai or praised Dove. It felt repetitive, to praise the girl who had gone from a shy, book-reading teenager to a diplomatic, intelligent adult—the girl whom, seven years ago, Aly had sworn fealty to before she had land to rule from. And it also felt repetitive to scorn the girl so close to Aly's age, who reminded Aly just how immature she had once been.

No, it was not from lack of pride or words of praise that Aly shrugged—but she could guess why Kyprioth was here. It was a purpose parallel to why she was here that evening.

Kyprioth smiled again—but it was a tricky smile, not a kind one. "I think we've known each other too long to trifle."

"What better advice to follow than your own?" said Aly, taking her eyes off of Dove for a moment to look at her children. All three were playing with boats in the artifical pond, under the watchful eye of a nursemaid. Ulasu looked up at the curtain of trees, as though sensing her mother's gaze, but after a moment's frown turned back to her paper boat.

Kyprioth ignored the jibe. "Dove has done an admirable job securing the Copper Isles, quashing any unrest in the luarin estates. She's placated allies and enemies alike. But _you_ know as well as I do, my Tortallan native, what stability like that means without an heir to the throne."

Again Aly eyed Dove as the girl smiled at the noble who had caught her attention. He was certainly a handsome fellow—a luarin with light, curly hair and a smiling face. But Dove would do no more than smile at him—though at nineteen, she voiced fewer and fewer resolutions for chasteness and more on 'the good of her kingdom'. Aly had never done more than grudge Sarai her decision—she was too passionate and brazen to be a Queen—but Aly had felt the bitterness that compromised the trade between the older and younger sister. Sarai had shirked her responsibility as oldest sister in favor of love—and Dove had shouldered that responsibility, forsaking it. Whatever leeway being a younger sister might have provided Dove where romance was concerned was gone now—a Queen, especially a half-raka Queen ruling after a tenuous rebellion, did not openly flirt with men.

Spreading her hands in a blasé turn, Aly turned to the god. "Are you willing to risk your current stability for the stability of an arranged marriage with some jumped-up noble? If Dove marries a raka, it'll only take two or three generations before the luarin forget her justice in the face of their noble pride. How long do you think a luarin will last under the chafe of raka rulers?"

"As long as they need to," Kyprioth said lightly. "Dove is half-raka—the people love her. They won't forget…especially if I keep her heir in line."

Aly was not convinced. "The same problem applies to the luarin, though," Aly said heatedly. "Just imagine it—Dove, caught between two feuding races. The Queen of the Copper Isles, who preaches about equality and fairness, choosing her husband from the sons of an esteemed raka—or, if you prefer, luarin—family? It would upset the balance faster than an earthquake."

"The esteemed are esteemed no matter what their blood. Surely you haven't forgotten your own kingdom's advocacy?" Before Aly could respond, he continued. "If Dove marries a half-blood noble, there won't be a question of blood or balance. And besides," he added after a moment's pause, "raka customs are matriarchal—it's only the children that matter."

The glint in Kyprioth's eyes made her hold up a hand. "Don't even suggest the wedlock custom. If you think Dove will take on a consort for an heir out of wedlock, you've grown more senile than I have."

"You, my dear, are a guest—albeit one that has stuck around for seven years—and as such should know better than to criticize your host's rules. Raka custom dictates a matriarchal lineage—as long as Dove has a child, that child inherits the throne after her, as do their daughters and their daughters' daughters." The pleased expression on Kyprioth's face convinced Aly that he had never wanted Dove to marry at all—he knew the stability a husband could so easily ruin. No, he only wanted his raka customs—and an heir to the throne.

"Yes, but at what cost? What luarin is going to follow what their custom dictates is a bastard child?" She eyed him coolly, eyebrow raised, but his expression was bland and unaffected.

"A harried luarin," Kyprioth said simply. "They'll remember what happened last time they doubted the raka." Before she could respond, Kyprioth was gone.

Ulasu came up to her from where she had been playing by the artificial pond with the other noble children. All of Aly's children knew the god, and knew to stay away when he came, but it was Ulasu who had a special dislike of the god and had bitten him as a toddler. "What did _he_ want?" she said doubtfully, her eyebrows wrinkled in annoyance. "He made the air pop."

"Nothing—just silliness," Aly said tiredly, and kissed her before sending her off to play with the other children.

As official spymaster, Aly was no longer required to serve Dove or help undress her. But after the dinner party that night, once Aly tucked the children into bed, she snuck into Dove's rooms. Though it was almost midnight, Dove was at her desk, sorting through papers and messages.

"There are clerks for that sort of paper shuffling--you should get some sleep," Aly said, leaning casually on the wall.

Dove smiled, but did not look up from the paper she was reading. "You're a fine one to talk." She signed the paper she had been reading and put it aside.

"But not as fine as that fellow you were smiling at tonight, no?"

While composed in matters of diplomacy and war, Dove flushed, her dark cheeks tinged crimson. "You know I don't mean anything by it."

"No—but I do know that at nineteen, young fellows will catch your attention far more than they did at twelve."

"Of course they will, Aly, but I'm not like that. I'm not like—" and here she paused. The name neither would speak hung tangibly in the air, as though their combined thoughts had given material weight to it. "I'm not like other girls," she said smoothly. "I know my responsibility, and I certainly know what my heart is committed to: my throne. I knew what I was giving up at twelve, when I took the crown and led the raka rebellion."

Aly could have crowed with pride. She had never doubted Dove in this matter. But the thought of heirs had never been brought up in the soliloquy Dove's pride and intelligence had thrust before her, and that realization did not escape her sharp mind. If Aly was inclined to look beyond her pride for the girl, she knew that she'd be thinking the same thoughts as Kyprioth—Dove needed to marry a noble, bear some heirs, and secure her kingdom down the Balitang line.

The wedlock custom once again came to mind, and once again Aly thrust it away. Despite the progressive ideals instilled in her from birth, the idea of a child born of wedlock ruling made most Tortallans—herself included—wince. Children like that bred instability in luarin countries, and instability bred long, bloody, and violent rebellions.

But here, with a half-raka queen on the throne, and with raka individuals playing the largest part in the rebellion that put her there, it was expected that raka customs would take prevalence. It was why noble families stopped sending quite so many noble girls to the palace and instead sent their sons once Dove reached her majority.

Aly's feet took her instinctively to her office once she bid Dove good night; she sat and listlessly read some reports. It was only a matter of time before Kyprioth came again with a message she wouldn't be able to push away with reports from her spies. In a week or two, once he realized Aly would not pursue the subject of marriage past her group of advisors, he would come and talk to Dove personally.

And, with half a dozen relatives and friends on whom gods took special interest, Aly knew that personal messages from gods never bid well for their recipients.


	2. Chapter 2

**Blood and Balance**

**Chapter 2**

**Author's Notes: Not mine, I swear, and all that jazz. Also, just to summarize the first chapter: **_Aly meets Kyprioth during a small get-together of nobles that includes Dove and other nobles her age. She believes Dove may have shown interest in one of these nobles, but does not express the sentiment to Kyprioth. Kyprioth, on the other hand, mentions the need for an heir to secure the stability of Dove's rule, and also mentions an age-old raka custom, from the time when bloodlines ran through the female rulers. This custom revolves around the practice that raka queens take on consorts and produce heirs, many times out of wedlock. Not only did this ensure the bloodline's existence, but allowed female rulers to exist and rule in their own right. Aly expresses her dissent to the custom. Later, in a meeting with Dove, Aly realizes that Dove is firmly resolved in her responsibility to her kingdom--a sentiment that can have both good and bad consequences._

**Three weeks later**

"I will _not _marry at your bidding."

The young woman who spoke stood before the towering god, her cheeks flushed with the exertion of refusing a god's will. Nevertheless, her dark eyes were calm and calculating, her voice quiet and even. Aly ruefully remembered the first time Dove had met Kyprioth, where the younger girl had thrown herself prostate in his presence. Seven years had taken the edge off of that humility—or perhaps it was only the request he made, so different from his others.

The room seemed to shimmer with Kyprioth's anger, the emotion rolling off him like waves. "You ruin our efforts on some girlish whim? I will not see centuries of effort thrown out on the—"

"The measures of diplomacy? The need for stability? It is necessary that I maintain these aspects of my kingdom, not ignore them to chase a husband. No kingdom will grant me marriage to their princes once they discover that my foothold here will always have precedence to theirs."

Her argument, at the least, was sound. Everyone in the room—Kyprioth, Aly, Dove, and Winnamine—knew it. It was his misfortune to come when the three had been talking about the subject of marriage only moments before. Dove had practiced her argument only moments before on her mother and advisor.

"I don't ask you to marry, you selfish chit; find some fellow, fall in love, and give me an heir. You know the customs of your people—unless your own stubbornness has tainted its memory."

Aly eyed Kyprioth, but said nothing. She could tell by the subtle raise in Winnamine's eyebrow that Dove's stepmother believed Kyprioth was fighting a losing battle: and Aly agreed, but for a different reason. A god could have threatened Dove the moment he came—thrown her kingdom into disarray until she conceded and married. But he had only parleyed so far with the queen, and Aly knew how to think like a trickster.

"My obstinacy, as you put it, is at the service of my country, not my private whims. Marrying a noble—even from my own country—will throw the stability I have built up into disarray. When and if I marry, it will be with the knowledge that, when I do, I can count on my kingdom to remain without rebellion or cause for it." Though Dove's voice was quiet and even, sweat was running down her cheeks. "It is too soon to take so bold a move. My advisors feel the same."

"All but your raka advisors—you know what they suggest," Kyprioth said, and Aly could see the glint in his fathomless eyes. So it was back to this, then—the alternative all her raka advisors, and even some of the progressive luarin ones, had suggested. Take a consort. Produce an heir.

Dove was silent. Aly knew the thought had crossed her mind during all those meetings, when those advisors hinted that she should take up the mantle of the copper-skinned queens of old. If she did, no one who remembered the last rebellion of the raka would question her ability to do so. Besides, they remember Imajane, Rubinyan, and the tricky webs of alliances made through marriage. Bloodline hierarchies were simpler to maintain. "It is not advice I feel will put our country in the best view," she said stiffly. Aly knew she was familiar with the luarin objectives against the wedlock custom—and perhaps even agreed with them.

"You have led a rebellion, quashed the luarin who opposed you, and put raka into their place of power—and now you worry about what other countries will think?" Kyprioth laughed, a sound that made the walls echo madly. "You are entirely in your right to take a consort, and I demand that you do! Selfish chit, I let your sister do as she pleased, but I will not allow the same for you." His voice was intense, with the undercurrents of volcanoes, tides, earthquakes. "Find a nobleman, do what you must, and _give me an heir_."

With that he was gone, leaving a perspiring Dove, a flushed Winnamine, and a curious Aly. She was certainly familiar with the ways of Tricksters—had she not been weaned of their tricks?—and she couldn't help but feel that Kyprioth had entered this confrontation with the incentive to lose.

After all, gods don't parley with humans.


End file.
